The Fall
by kdsch123
Summary: PeterClaire, Nathan. The Future is always in motion...it's Claire's turn to save Peter.
1. The Fall

The Fall

By Denise (kdsch123)

Rating: PG  
Pairing: Peter/Claire, Nathan

Acknowledgements: I acknowledge that I own nothing – Heroes is owned by NBC, the shows producers and creative staff.

Summary: Always in motion, is the future….

Spoilers: For "Fallout", general for Season one, otherwise. And I don't know that this is what will happen, but I think it would be wonderful if it did.

"I see you in a dream,  
You turn and start to go,  
I call to you once more  
Guess that I'm takin' the fall

It's a lie...  
(I don't believe it's so)  
It's a lie…  
Our love couldn't go wrong  
How could I know I was only dreaming  
And now, now that you're gone  
I will go on really believing  
I take the fall…"  
"The Fall" by ELO

"Gone?" Claire gripped the edge of the desk and shook her head. She could still feel the grip of the Haitian man that her father had sent to wipe her memory on her, and the only person she would let herself trust was…_GONE._ The world as Claire Bennett knew it had stopped making any kind of sense and she shook her head, frowning at the deputy. "Gone?" She clutched her hastily packed backpack and tried to not panic.

"He was released, Miss. There was no reason to hold him anymore. And there were some loudmouth suits in here makin' sure we cut him loose P.D.Q." The sheriff's deputy at the desk looked at her. "You okay?"

"I'm fine." Claire closed her eyes. "Do y'all know where they went?"

"No, ma'am." The deputy shook his head. "You don't look good. Lemme get some Coke or something for you."

"No, thank you." Claire smiled, remembering her mother's constant nagging about manners. "I'll go. I just wanted to thank him again...he saved my life."

"A hero." The deputy nodded. "Gotcha." He winked at her and Claired turned toward the door of the sheriff's office, walking slowly, trying to think. She walked through the doors and out into the evening, and sat down on the steps, to take a breath.

"Miss…" A brown uniformed deputy came out of the building behind her. "Were you looking for Peter Petrelli? I heard you asking about him."

"Was that his last name?" Claire asked, standing. "Yes. I was looking for him."

"Took him to General. Collapsed on the steps here. Right there where you're standing at, as a matter of fact." The deputy nodded. "Looked pretty bad. Hope he makes it." Claire looked toward the hospital, and without meaning to, started to cry. The deputy shook his head. "Listen, I'm off duty, but I'll drive you there. It's a mile and a bit and it's getting dark."

"I don't want to trouble you." Claire said, sniffling, and the deputy smiled.

"Ain't no trouble. Come on." He walked her down the steps. "I'm parked over here."

At the hospital, Claire thanked the deputy and went in. She asked the volunteers at the information desk about Peter and was directed to the Intensive Care unit. Hands sweating, Claire pushed the button on the elevator, looking around nervously. It was hard to know who to trust, and where she was safe now. The elevator opened, and a tall man, with dark hair and a square jaw walked off, talking into his cellphone with in short, clipped bursts. He didn't see her at first, and nearly knocked her over.

"Excuse me." Claire said, too upset to care about being polite, and he turned, fixing his small, dark eyes on her. He moved the phone away from his ear and smiled apologetically. The smile was practiced, and made Claire think of the alligators at the zoo. A tall alligator in a designer suit.

"I'm very sorry, Miss." He turned back to the phone. "No, Heidi, we don't know anything more than what I said. No, Mom shouldn't be here…." He walked away, his expensive shoes striking against the tile floor of the hospital lobby like thunder. Claire got on the elevator, pushing the button for the second floor. When the doors opened, she walked down the hall, trying to be casual, but wanting to run. The Haitian had told her to find Peter and stay with him, and Claire wanted to be there should her father come, to confront him about Lyle and Zach and to protect Peter's memories as much as she could. Pushing through the door to the SICU, Claire found Peter's glass fronted room, bigger than his cell, but more terrifying. Machines and monitors beeped, and he was slight and almost invisible against the white sheets, his dark hair providing the contrast needed to show he was there at all.

"Oh my god." Claire gasped, shaking her head. "No." She went to the bed, and blinked back tears, a cold feeling wrapping around her. "Peter." Claire took his hand, pulling a chair over to sit right beside his bed. "I'm here. You said you healed because of me…I'm going to sit right here with you until you're better. I can save your life now. You're like this because of me…and I'm sorry…"

"….I'm sorry…." Claire, in her red and white cheerleading uniform shook her head in horror, as his hands started to glow. She turned, looking back, and then running away, a cop in a Los Angeles Police Department uniform grabbing her by the hand and pulling her further away. Claire screamed, but Peter couldn't hear her, just saw her as she tried to run back to him, the police officer not letting her go. "Peter!!!"

In nursing school, Peter had been taught that patients that are in a coma can hear what's going on around them. As a hospice nurse, Peter didn't doubt that for a second, and given his experiences with Simone's father before he died, if he had doubted, he didn't anymore. He could feel a small hand in his, another that pushed the hair from his face, and he knew the owner of the hands was speaking to him, but he couldn't hear them. All he could hear was the desperate scream of a girl he'd risked his life to save, struggling again in his dream to save him, just when he thought she'd abandon him. The owner of the hands came into a dreamy focus in his mind, and Peter heard her voice, over the hum and beeps of the monitors. Claire.

There was also the absence of his brother's energy in the room. Apparently Nathan had left, and Peter let himself relax a little, feeling clearer than he had in awhile. With Claire's hand in his, he could feel a flow of something, like waves of gentle and warm water flowing into him. Still not able to talk, or open his eyes, Peter took inventory of the iv tubes and equipment that were keeping him alive. That was no longer strictly true, though, was it? No, it wasn't. They had brought in the big guns here, but that wasn't unexpected, since he was under 25. Had he been aware of anything at all really before Claire arrived? Peter didn't remember, but he was pretty sure he didn't. He willed his hand to close around hers, but it didn't happen. Damn. Peter wanted to give her some clue that he knew she was there, a sign to not give up on him now. That dream was too real, the pain at her walking away too powerful. If she walked away now, it would kill him for sure.

"…you're all I've got right now…my hero…Peter…I'm going to save you this time…." Peter heard Claire's voice, soft and sad, like it was coming to him over a great distance. Someone came into the room, and Peter heard Claire respond that she was his friend and then Nathan's voice, piercing the blackness Peter was in with acerbic clarity.

"…his friend? Look, my brother hasn't been in your little slice of Texas for longer than 48 hours. How does he know you?" Nathan's voice was tense, brittle and Peter knew his brother was worried. If he could have smiled, Peter would have, because seeing Claire in the room when he got back from where ever it was he'd gone had to have been a shock, and the look on Nathan's face had to have been priceless.

"He saved me." Claire replied simply, softly, but not letting go of Peter's hand and not backing down. "He came to Texas to save me, he said." Peter could smell her now, the scent of a properly cared for young girl, fabric softener and an innocent fragrance Peter would never associate with anyone other than Claire again. And despite her fragile appearance, she was made of stronger stuff, and Peter wondered again what her destiny could possibly be that he had come to this to save her. Maybe if just to irritate Nathan, it was worth it. "I think if I stay with him now, he'll get better on his own."

"Right. Listen, I don't know how he found you, but you need to go. This is private family business and you don't belong here…" Nathan's voice was clipped and curt, and Peter felt Claire's hand tighten again on his. "It's not good. His chance of surviving this is slim to none."

Geez, thanks, Nathan. Peter thought, wanting to shake his head at his brother's words.

"You can't make me go. And, you shouldn't say that." Claire replied, and Peter heard her sit down again, both of her hands on his. "What if he can hear you?"

"He can't." There was a scraping sound, the metal of another chair being drawn over to the other side of the bed. "Peter saved you?"

"Yes." Claire replied. "Someone tried to kill me, and Peter stopped them. He fell off a building to stop them."

"He didn't fly?" Nathan asked sarcastically,ignoring Claire's sharp intake of air at the question and Peter wanted to punch him. Hard. His hand closed around Claire's for a second, and she gasped again, this time with surprise.

"He squeezed my hand." She said, her voice seeming to squeak with delight, and Peter felt Nathan take his other hand. "He heard you…Say something else." Claire prodded Nathan, who cleared his throat uncomfortably. "If it was my brother like this, I'd have a lot to say…"

"You in there, Pete?" Nathan was close, leaning down near Peter's ear. "Wake up, okay. Let's start with that." Nathan looked up, and Peter heard him speak to Claire. "Anything?"

"No." She sighed. "He did try to squeeze my hand, I promise. Peter? I'm not leaving…I'm staying, as long as you need me…"

Peter focused, and closed his hand around hers, and felt her other hand close over his. He heard Nathan sob, and felt tears on his hand from where Claire had drawn it up to her face.

"If you are staying with him, I need to know who you are." Nathan asked, and Claire nodded. "What's your name?"

"Claire Bennett." Peter could feel her trembling.

"Well, Claire Bennett, if anyone asks, you know my brother your whole life. How old are you?" Freaking Nathan, Peter thought, always looking to keep the spin going his way. Claire hesitated, lowering Peter's hand back to the bed but not letting go.

"I'm seventeen." Claire replied, revolted. "Why?"

"From right now, until Peter's up and I have him on a plane to New York, you're 20. Got it?" Nathan asked her and Peter felt his brother sit back down, not letting go of his hand. "Can you be 20?" Peter saw Claire's face in his mind. Yeah, she could be twenty, someday. Right now, even the idea that she was only 17 seemed a bit of a stretch.

"Sure." Claire agreed, sitting back down. "If I tell people I'm 20, you'll let me stay with him?"

"Yes." Nathan said, and then cleared his throat. "What does he think you can do?"

"Do?" Claire asked, and Peter was proud of the note of annoyance in her voice. You go, Claire. "Don't know what you mean."

"He thinks I can fly, he thought he could fly…" Nathan groaned. "I'm really not very patient right now, Claire. What can you do?"

"I heal.." Claire said, her voice soft. "When Peter fell from the roof, I went to him and he got better, but not enough…"

Nathan stood, the metal of the chair scraping on the floor again. "Let's hope this time he's right." He let go of Peter's hand. "I have some calls to make. My mother will want to know he responded at all." Nathan left, and Peter heard him say thank you to Claire before he left, the door closing behind him. She sighed, resting her cheek against Peter's hand.

"….I'm sorry…." Claire, in her red and white cheerleading uniform shook her head in horror, as his hands started to glow. She turned, looking back, and then running away, a cop in a Los Angeles Police Department uniform grabbing her by the hand and pulling her further away. Claire screamed, but Peter couldn't hear her, just saw her as she tried to run back to him, the police officer not letting her go. "Peter!!! She broke away from the cop, pushing him out of the way, dodging three others who tried to stop her, including Issac, who had let Simone sink to the ground, weeping. "NO!" She pulled her arm free of Issac's grip. "I can do this..he needs me…"

"Claire! Stay back! You can't help him this time…it's too dangerous…" Nathan's voice came from behind Peter, but she set her jaw and ran into Peter's arms, pressing her face into his coat. Peter could smell her, that soft powdery fragrance and fabric softener, and he closed his arms around her, even as he wished with all his heart and soul that she was anywhere else safe. Even if that meant not holding her again.

"I'm not going anywhere. I'm staying. I can help. Let me save you this time, Peter…" Her voice was soft in his ear, hovering on the borderline of waking and dreams…Peter?

Peter sank into more pleasant dreams, sure that somehow, Claire's presence in his hospital room was the reason things would be different when push finally came to shove, and he kept his hand around hers. Claire was his lifeline now, literally.

"Peter?" Claire asked, noticing the change in his breathing, and pressing his hand to her cheek, she smiled. "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere. I'm staying. Let me save you this time…."


	2. The Vigil

Bone marries bone. Muscle and tissue regenerate and heal when everything in medical science says it will not, can not happen. And yet, in the case of Peter Petrelli, it was happening. The doctors and nurses still called his condition guarded, but the truth was, Peter was improving, in direct defiance of their earlier predictions. The respirator had been removed two days ago, hours after Claire appeared at Peter's bedside. But, Peter still hadn't opened his eyes at all. Slowly, the pallor had disappeared, replaced by a healthy flush on Peter's face that Nathan secretly thanked God for. It seemed now that his brother was merely sleeping, a profound and untroubled rest that Nathan or Claire Bennett appreciated, but were unable to share.

Nathan Petrelli had been through this before. His wife's recovery from their car accident six months ago had been difficult, but he remembered his bedside vigil in vivid detail. The girl, Claire, had not left Peter's side for longer than it took to shower or to use the bathroom since she'd arrived. The nurses had taken pity on her and supplied her with fresh green scrubs, to sleep in, as well as a reclining chair she could curl up in to sleep if she wanted to. If it was wearing on her, Nathan had no idea. She simply persevered, reading to Peter from a book she'd pulled out of her backpack, holding his hand, or simply commenting on what was on the television from time to time. It was Claire's hand Peter would close his own around from time to time, even if Nathan were there on the other side of the bed. It was Claire's voice Peter seemed to respond to. Right now, watching from the other side of the glassed wall, Nathan saw Claire wipe Peter's forehead, keeping up the running commentary that had been the soundtrack of the last few days. Nathan remembered composing a similar one for Heidi, about the boys, Peter, the campaign, his parents, whatever he could think of. But Claire Bennett was not Peter's wife. She was a girl from Odessa, Texas whose primary concern three days ago was what lip gloss matched her math book or whatever teenage girls worry about today. Nathan pushed the door tot he room open quietly and listened.

"I went to the cafeteria before, and they had catfish." Claire was saying, her voice soft. "I have to tell you, I hate catfish. Momma always makes it and it always tastes like mud to me…" She giggled. "I always eat PB & J on catfish nights. Do you like peanut butter and jelly, Peter?"

"He does." Nathan said, setting down the packages he was holding. "Strawberry jelly. When he was little, our mother couldn't keep enough of it around."

"Oh." Claire said, suddenly shy. "I just wanted to keep talking to him. The doctor says he can hear…the last brain scan thing…"

"EEG." Nathan interrupted, and Claire nodded. "That's what it's called, an electroencephalogram…"

"Right." She said, smiling a little. "Got to remember that. Well, the doctor said Peter can hear us. So, I guess I've been chattier since then."

"Go ahead." Nathan looked at his brother. "It's not hurting anything. At the very least, when he wakes up, he'll know everything there is to know about you. "

Claire sighed, and fidgeted with the sheet covering Peter. "I guess. I don't mean to be trouble…"

"You aren't." Nathan sat down and opened one of the overnight packages sent from his campaign headquarters. "He likes it, so keep it up." He waved at her, as he might have a staffer. "Carry on."

She didn't reply, but took Peter's hand in hers and sat down in the reclining chair, curling up so that she faced Peter. "If you're here, I'll go to sleep for a little while." Claire snuggled into the chair, closed her eyes.

"Yeah, okay…" Nathan said, not really hearing Claire, but, not missing the monitor register Peter's heart rate increase when Claire touched him. "I'm not going anywhere…"

"I'm not going anywhere…" Peter turned, and saw Nathan standing just behind him. Nathan, in his perfectly polished suit and tie, was every inch the Senator. "We're not going anywhere." He indicated Claire, who was still holding on to Peter for dear life, even as his skin seemed to blaze away from his bones and pain seared through him, a thousand suns of pain….Claire's hands were cool on his skin, her powers flowing from her and to him constantly. Because of her, he stayed whole, and when he could see again, he was on the pavement, in a crumpled ball, his head in Claire's lap, her hands gently brushing the hair from his face as if he were a small child…a ring of people standing around them in amazement. When he looked up at her, her tears fell on his face and made steam, but the crisis had been averted…

Not able to open his eyes, Peter rose from the dream state and quickly assessed himself. Respirator gone, minimal pain meds on board, the catheter was still in place, but, well, the IV fluids had to go out some way. Claire was sleeping, he could measure her deep and even breaths. He wanted to open his eyes, see her still alive, to touch her and make sure she wasn't some delusion he was having. Proof that he wasn't crazy, his theories about the weirdness of the last few weeks had been dead on. He also needed to find Mohinder, Issac and Hiro, all of them and tell them he'd saved the cheerleader, hoping that somehow they'd have stumbled on what would come next. What about Simone? Peter asked himself, and then shut her face out of his mind entirely. Being like this gave him time to think about things, really mull them over without anyone intruding, and Peter had come to some conclusions about things between himself and Simone. He had been a substitute for Issac, a supplement and a grasp at salvation that Simone had made. Peter wasn't even all that sure of his feelings for her, when it came right down to it. It seemed unfair, but Peter doubted Simone would shed many tears over his ending things.

"…Peter, if you can hear me, you really need to come out of this…" Nathan's voice was a bracing dose of here and now, and Peter became aware again of Claire's hand in his, sleep loosening her grip, but not the ebb and flow of her healing power as it worked on him, slowly repairing every internal injury, every damaged organ. "I have to get back to New York…the campaign is at a critical point, Heidi is panicked, Mom is panicked. We know what Mom does when she's emotional…"

She shoplifts, yeah, I know. Peter thought, remembering his elegant mother, broken in a dingy police station, as he knelt beside her and held her hands. "I wanted to feel alive again…" She'd said, and Peter couldn't wait to tell her what being in a coma was like. He seriously doubted that shoplifting a lipstick would solve his problems now.

"And…your little friend here," Peter knew without seeing that Nathan was looking at Claire, who was deeply asleep beside him. "Her whole life is crammed into a backpack, and she's not left you for more than ten minutes at a time for three days. Someone will be looking for her, a parent, a guardian, a boyfriend, and then what? I don't need the scandal…underage cheerleader found in hospital room with Senator's brother, news at eleven, right?"

There won't be a scandal, Nathan, geez. His older brother's concerns were wearing, and Peter felt himself drifting back to the world of his dreams. Nathan could obsess by himself for awhile, Peter reasoned and let himself fall asleep.

_It was suddenly light all around him, and Peter saw Claire talking with someone, a taller, blonde girl that he recognized as the cheerleader from the trophy case - the one who'd screamed for Claire to run...Jackie…Both of them were in uniform. Looking over at him, Jackie waved slightly, a small, bitchy smile playing on her pretty face. She walked away, after giving Claire the quick, open armed hug popular girls seemed to favor, disappearing into the white brightness beyond them._

_Peter opened his mouth to speak, and Claire turned, surprised to see him. Her cheerleading uniform was gone, replaced with the light blue hoodie and the cargo pants she was wearing when he'd first met her. Fresh, smiling and every high school boy's dream, Claire was smiling at him. _

_Hey...Peter said, and Claire bounced on her toes, excited to see him. _

_Hey, yourself. Claire replied, reaching out to punch his arm lightly. Ready to wake up yet?_

_I want to, but I don't think I can. Peter grinned, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. But, now I know what a statue feels like._

_Claire's smile faded a bit. Are you feeling better, though? You look better. The electroencephlothingy was good…_

_Peter grinned. You can call it a brain scan. I know what you mean. Don't worry about Nathan. He can't help it. The fact that he corrected you means he respects you, really. I know it doesn't seem that way, but that's what it means.._

_Claire blushed. I wish you'd wake up. I want to talk to you for real…I mean…I don't know if how we're doing this, do you?_

_No, but it's kind of neat, though. I want to talk to you for real, too, Claire, Peter reached out to put his hand on her shoulder. He could almost feel it, and he laughed a little, realizing that dreams can only be so real…To thank you…_

_Peter….Claire's face disappeared into blackness._

"Peter? What's going on?" Claire sat up, rubbing her eyes, and Nathan shrugged, looking up briefly from his speech to glance at Claire.

"Nurse came in, gave Peter his medicine, more of whatever they're giving him for pain. Feel rested? You were out there for awhile. Thought you might need the room next door."

Claire nodded, sitting up. "I'm good for awhile. You want this chair? You could probably use some sleep."

"I'm fine." Nathan shook his head. "Get a couple hours tonight. I'll be okay." He looked at Peter and then stood, stretching. "I'm going to get some coffee. Do you want anything?"

"Just a diet Coke, I guess." Claire said. "Thanks."

Nathan left, and turned to look through the glass wall again. Claire was sitting beside the bed, holding Peter's hand between her two small ones, talking. She stood, and placed her hand on Peter's cheek tenderly and smiled down at him. Feeling as if he were intruding, Nathan shook his head a little and walked away toward the cafeteria.

"Hi." Claire said to Peter, stroking his cheek. "I wish you'd wake up…."

Peter fought against the effect of the painkiller, focusing on Claire's voice. I want to wake up too, Claire…I want to wake up and see if your eyes are really as green as they are in my dreams, and to just keep looking at you. I thought you were dead. I want to tell you that. When I heard those cops talking and they said the cheerleader was dead, I thought they meant you. And, I wanted to die, too, because I thought I didn't save the world, but you're safe and that means the world can still be saved, doesn't it?….Claire….

"iiirrreee…" His mouth barely moved, but Claire leapt forward, peering down into Peter's face.

"Peter?" Claire's heart raced. "Peter!"

Without opening his eyes, he sighed. "Bri…ig…ht…"

"It's too light?" Claire let go of his hand and shut the lights off in the room and came back, taking his hand in hers again. "Now?" He nodded a little and Claire pressed the call button for the nurse. "Hi." She looked down into his face.

"Hi." Peter Petrelli said, grasping the hand of his savior tightly. "I'm glad you're here." The nurse came into the room, looking down into Peter's face, opening his eyelids gently to flash a small light into his eyes before she listened to him breathe.

"You heard him talk, didn't you?" Claire asked, and Peter heard his nurse checking his IV's again. "He spoke to me…you did hear him, didn't you?"

"I sure did, Sugar. That was some big time prayin' you must've done over him, girl, because this is as miraculous as I've ever seen. Peter? I'm Rose, your nurse. You're in the Surgical Intensive Care Unit at Odessa General Hospital. Welcome back to the land of the living, hon. You had us all scared for awhile."

"Yeah, I'm good for that." Peter smiled, his eyes still closed, gripping Claire's hand for dear life. "Ask my brother."

To Be Continued


	3. The Miracle

The Miracle

It was a miracle, one medical science could not explain and the doctors were willing to allow for an act of God. Peter Petrelli had looked at his chart, reviewed his tests, showing Claire the pages of test results and lab reports that proved he'd had massive internal injuries and had lost more blood than he should have. But, as happens every day in a place full of medical miracles, Peter had been downgraded to a telemetry unit on the fifth floor of the hospital. The view from his window of downtown Odessa not very inspiring, and the lime jello on his lunch tray less than appetizing. Claire still seemed to be waiting for something, watching every move he made, words hiding on the edge of her tongue, ready to tumble out at the right time. Nathan was subtle, but not much more so, facilitating phone calls between Peter and their mother, who had acquiesced to Heidi's sensible advice and stayed in New York. Claire's presence forced an uncomfortable politeness out of Nathan that Peter found extremely amusing. Peter took his own restlessness as a sign of his recovery. It was time to get out of here and find out what had to happen next.

"Hi." Claire said, coming into his room. The nurses on the telemetry unit, like the ones in SICU, had taken Claire under their wings and given her a home among them while Peter was recovering. Freshly showered, Claire had that same soft scent Peter remembered from when he was in the coma, and she looked very small in the baggy scrubs she wore. "The latest in hospital fashion. Like it?" She turned, and Peter smiled, putting his spoon down, stabbing the offending green jello.

"At least yours stays closed in the back." Peter's smile was lopsided. "Anything?" As always, as soon as she entered the room, Peter could feel the flow of her powers wash over him. Now that he was better, it was a jolt, a kind of rush that took a few minutes to adjust to not having when Claire left the room.

"Well, your cell phone didn't make it through the fall." Claire shook her head as she set her backpack on the floor next to her chair. "Nathan said he'd get you a new one, but that's not going to be until you go home."

"Great, I can get myself one when I get home." Peter fell back against his pillows and looked out the window. "Claire, what about you? What are you going to do?"

"I wanted to talk to you about that." Claire sat down in the chair next to the bed. "As of right now, I'm kind of hiding."

"Hiding?" Peter looked at her, sitting forward again. "What are you talking about?"

"This man who works for my dad, he's like us, with abilities.." Claire began, looking at her hands. "He showed up at my house the day I found you here, and told he he'd been ordered to wipe my mind…like he'd done to my friend Zach, my brother and my mom. He said it was important that I remember everything. But, he made me promise not to tell my dad, and to only tell you. He said I needed to stay with you to be safe. My mom thinks I'm at cheerleading camp and Dad has to play along." Claire looked up. "If I go home, he'll have my mind erased like everyone else's."

Peter blinked, putting his hand over his mouth, trying to think. "I can't say that's impossible, can I?" He smiled again, and nodded. "I can't let it happen, either. Well, there's one solution, as far as I can see. When I was dreaming the future, I saw you in New York. You'll just have to come with me."

"Come with you." Claire repeated the words, her voice low and shocked. "But how? Nathan is ready to send me home now."

"I know he is. And let me worry about him." Peter looked up through the open door, just to see if his brother was on the way in. He thought a minute. "We can tell him if you and I are separated again, I'll die."

"You won't really, will you?" She gasped, reaching for his hand, but then remembering herself. Since he'd opened his eyes, Claire had not so much as laid a finger on him. She'd been reserved and shy in a friendly way, as if remembering she hardly knew him. Peter shook his head.

"I'll be fine now, I think. I feel great." He pushed his full tray away. "Great enough to not want that."

Claire looked at the tray and shook her head. "You have to eat something. I know it's nasty…" She stuck out her tongue and made a sour face. "What would you want, you think? I guess I could go to the cafeteria and get you something else."

"PB & J." Peter said immediately, and Claire rolled her eyes, laughing. It was the first thing he'd told her about what he'd overheard when he woke up enough to really talk to her. It had become kind of a code, something between the two of them that Nathan didn't quite understand, for when Peter was unhappy with something and wanted another option. If something was very, very bad, Peter would say, "Catfish" and Claire would giggle, changing the channel on the television or offering him a different magazine.

"Come on, now. Really." She tipped her head, watching his face for signs of teasing. "Do you really want that?"

"Yes, and milk. Ice cold milk." Peter nodded. "Forget this," He looked at the tray. "Whatever this is."

"I think it's meatloaf." Claire came closer and poked the gravy covered lump with the fork. "Yep." She wrinkled her nose. "It smells like feet."

"Nah, that's me." Peter grinned at her, and Claire laughed, too, forgetting herself enough to reach out and slap his arm a little. "I'm waiting for them to tell me I can get up and shower. Bed baths are crappy."

Claire blushed a little, and then nodded. "Well, I'll go see about your sandwich and your milk, sir." She picked up his tray to carry it away. "Might as well do my part." She left him with a smile and the empty feeling that followed every time Peter lost contact with her powers. The thing was, Peter couldn't say it was just the loss of her regenerating abilities that caused that empty feeling. Seeing her fold her hands in her lap had the same effect, after holding her hand in his for so long. His hand would contract just when Peter just looked at her hands and Peter hoped that Claire never noticed.

"Get a grip, man." Peter said to himself, remembering her small face light up when he opened his eyes finally, tears welling up in her clear green eyes and spilling down her golden cheeks. "She's a kid."

Nathan appeared in the doorway, also freshly showered and neat in the blandly casual clothes he always seemed to wear now when not in a suit, khaki pants, collared polo shirt, khaki windbreaker. "Who is a kid?" He asked, fixing his brother with a questioning eye.

"Oh, on television." Peter shut the television off, not even paying attention to what had been on. "The doctor hasn't been in to see me yet."

Nathan nodded. "Where's Tinkerbell, Peter?" Nathan's dark eyes darted to the large blue reclining chair. Calling Claire Tinkerbell had been started by the nurses in SICU, and Peter had been mildly pleased and appalled to see it written in the nurses notes of his chart. Claire had laughed about it, but seemed uncomfortable, so Peter never referred to her in that way. Nathan, however, thought the nickname wildly appropriate, but at least managed to not call Claire that to her face, and saved it to torment Peter with on the off chance she was out of the room.

"Went to get me a peanut butter and jelly sandwich." Peter answered. "She doesn't like being called that."

Nathan shrugged. "After tomorrow, it won't matter."

"Why?" Peter asked. The expression on Nathan's face was excited, Christmas bright, and Peter knew what he was going to say before Nathan could even speak.

"You're being discharged tomorrow." Nathan sat down. "We're on a 7 p.m. flight to New York, and Claire can go back to worrying about boys and her curfew."

Peter thought about that for a minute. "Nathan, Claire needs to come to New York. I'm not sure, but I think if I'm not around her all the time, I might die." He tried to look weak, and Nathan frowned.

"Come on, Peter." Nathan lowered his voice. "She's a high school senior. Don't you think being sentimental is kind of inappropriate? Aren't you a little old for crushes on cheerleaders?"

"I'm not talking about that." Peter rolled his eyes at the idea. "I may need her abilities to stay alive." And, I like having her around. That's not a bad thing, is it? Peter asked himself, knowing better than to say that out loud.

"Oh." Nathan's frown grew deeper. "We're back to crazy talk. Okay, I'll play along. How do I explain her, Peter? To anyone?"

"I don't know." Peter shook his head. "I just know she has to come with us."

"Christ." Nathan stood, shaking his head. "What about her family?"

"I don't think that's going to be a problem." Peter said, looking down at the blanket over his legs. "I saw her in the future, in New York, when I was out, Nathan."

Claire stopped just outside the door to Peter's room, holding the tray with his sandwich and milk. She'd gotten him some chocolate pudding, too, and a Diet Coke for herself. Now she heard Peter and Nathan talking about her. In a move she'd learned from years of eavesdropping on her parents, Claire took a step to the side, so neither of the men could see her and held her breath.

"You heard her voice and dreamed or hallucinated. That doesn't mean anything. What about school? Where is she going to live?" Nathan's voice raised slightly, sounding very paternal and concerned.

"With me." Peter answered defiantly, and Claire felt her skin tingle, like suddenly standing in the freezer, and she clutched the tray tightly, her knuckles white. Live with Peter? Her mind raced with the idea, and scared her to death. "And it's not like there aren't high schools in New York. Heidi can hire her as a mother's helper or something." His tone was careless, casual, and Claire realized that this was Peter's way of making sure Nathan had no idea how big a deal this was to him.

"With you?" Nathan laughed, and Claire frowned, not liking the sound of his laugh at all. "Right. Having her will put a crimp in your social life, don't you think?" Nathan said, and Claire could hear Peter sigh, frustrated but not at all defeated.

"Never mind about my social life. If that's the only objection you have, then it's not a bad idea." Peter said thoughtfully. "If she's with me, keeping me alive, then I can keep an eye on her, too. I had to save her to save the world, Nathan. That's pretty important."

"I can't even believe this conversation." Nathan covered his eyes. "This girl is seventeen." Nathan hissed, sitting on the edge of the bed. "A MINOR. You even look at her wrong and her parents have you in jail for a long, long time, and you become a registered sex offender when you get out."

Claire shook her head, and then remembered Brody and how he stared at her blankly when she'd gone to his room to confront him about how he had tried to attack her. Her father wouldn't put Peter in jail. He'd make Peter forget he'd ever been born. Claire straightened her shoulders and walked into Peter's room, a fake, bright smile on her face.

"Here you go, peanut butter and strawberry jelly, chocolate pudding and ice cold milk." She set the tray down on the rolling tray table and took her soda from it. "Did I miss something?" Neither brother acknowledged her at all, and Claire shrugged. "Just keep pretending I'm not here. It's okay."

Nathan stood and looked at Peter for a long minute. "This is all going to have be handled really carefully, you realize that? You're going to be her guardian until she's 18. That's a big issue of trust, Peter."

"I know." Peter nodded, not looking at Claire at all. "If you don't trust me with this, she can stay with you and Heidi." Nathan frowned deeper, and Peter nodded. "Fine, then that's settled."

"What are you talking about?" Claire asked, resting her hand on the tray table in front of Peter. "Stay where? With who?"

"It looks like you and Peter aren't going to be separated after all, Tinkerbell." Nathan said, looking at Claire, ignoring the pained expression the nickname produced on her pretty face. "I'd better get your ticket for our flight out tomorrow. Pixie dust will only get you so far."

"Flight were?" Claire looked at Peter, panicked. "Where are we going?"

Peter reached over and took her hand in his. "New York. You're going to stay with me. We'll figure the rest out as we go, okay?" He tried to smile reassuringly at her, but the feel of her cool fingers tightening around his hand made him swallow. Hard.

"New York." Claire sat down, not pulling her hand away. She looked from Peter to Nathan in shock. "You're really going to take me with you? I can't believe what I'm hearing." She sighed and looked at Peter again, shaking her head. "Really?" Peter nodded, tightening his grip on her hand, and Nathan groaned, taking out his cell phone.

"That makes two of us, kid." Nathan shook his head. "Let me make the call. I must be out of my mind to even consider going along with this…"

To be continued…


	4. The Runaway

The Runaway– Part IV 

Mr. Bennett often found that coming home from business trips was the most pleasant part of his day. The latest mess at work had not been easy and escorting Eden's body back to California for her funeral had been an unpleasant piece of business. Thankfully, her family had been very accepting of the reason he had given for her death, as well as the money his organization was able to offer them, as a life insurance settlement. The other unresolved bit of workplace unpleasantness had been drugged into a coma. Gabriel Grey, aka Sylar, needed to be dead, Eden had been right about that, but, you didn't kill someone like him that easily. There was a great deal to be learned from a man like Gabriel Grey, and Mr. Bennett was determined to do exactly that. Another issue was the escape of Issac Mendez. Somehow, Eden had played a part in that, but Mr. Bennett hadn't been able to piece that together. Eden's death and the near escape of Sylar had been too much of a diversion, and Mendez got away, without a trace. It was no real loss, since the painter was so hooked on heroin that he'd be dead before long anyway. He'd served his purpose. Claire was safe.

The driveway was free of cars, or bicycles, and Mr. Bennett wondered if the Haitian had managed to train Lyle into putting his bike away, while erasing any memory of Claire's powers. He smiled, taking note of the flower beds that circled the house. Bribing Lyle into doing it hadn't worked and after all the traveling, it'd be good to get out in the fresh air to tidy those up. Just one of those house proud chores Mr. Bennett didn't mind doing himself. Part of the normal, predictable day to day life he valued more than anything.

"Honey? ClaireBear? Lyle?" Mr. Bennett walked in to the deathly silent house, and remembered. His wife had gone to her dog show in Houston, and Lyle was at practice. Which left Claire…he looked at his watch. Also at practice. He nodded, glad that his life at home was in working order. Smiling, Mr. Bennett went upstairs to change, ready to spend an afternoon doing some relaxing yard work. Tonight, he'd grill up some steaks and listen to the kids tell their stories about school, grateful for another day where they both were safe and sound. Claire's bedroom door was half closed, and Mr. Bennett went to push it open. The room was in it's usual state of teenage disarray, and Mr. Bennett smiled. She wouldn't remember why, but he resolved to just take it a little easy on her about the mess. Being distraught over her friend Jackie dying was hard enough. Lost in his own thoughts, he missed the note, written on pale pink paper, that Claire had left on her bed, and the fact that her closet had been emptied. Had he read it, it still would have been too late to stop her, and, he would have gone to the wrong coast looking for her.

Sitting in her seat, in between Peter and Nathan, Claire felt her stomach twitch and turn, her nerves on edge. This was, by far, the most defiant and reckless thing Claire Bennett had ever done in her short life, even passing the 'suicide' tapes by miles. The thing was, even with the news of her father's activities still ringing in her ears, Claire had never felt so safe in her life. There was something about Peter that Claire felt she could trust in completely. Maybe, it was the fact that he'd thrown himself off a building with no thought for his own safety to keep her out of danger. Or maybe, it was the way he seemed to seriously consider everything, from what he was going to eat for lunch to what shirt he would wear on the plane back to New York. Peter was quietly thoughtful, seemingly calm and sure of everything. Claire admired that, because she wasn't sure of anything at all anymore. Finding Lyle and Zach with no memory and then finding out her father had been responsible for that had sent her world into a tailspin. Peter was the only other one that remembered. He'd come all the way from New York to save her from Jackie's fate and Claire couldn't imagine not feeling safe with someone like that.

It could also be, Claire thought, casting a sidelong glance at Peter as he looked out the window, once again lost in his own thoughts, that his eyes were the softest and loveliest shade of brown she'd ever seen, dark like chocolate and slightly sad. Once Peter had gotten hold of her hand yesterday, he'd been reluctant to let it go, and Claire didn't mind him holding it, as a matter of fact, not holding his hand had been very hard. She'd felt oddly uncomfortable when he'd woken up, like an armadillo on it's plated back, it's soft belly exposed for everyone to see. She had told him everything about herself while he was in that coma, and Claire still didn't know how much he remembered. Things like the jokes about catfish and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches were not so bad, but the other things, things about feeling guilty about Jackie, and losing Zach as a friend again…Claire had told Peter those things while he was in a coma. Claire would have never shared those thoughts if his dark eyes had been fixed on her intently while she spoke, or his long and slender hand reached up to cover his mouth while he listened. She'd gotten butterflies in her belly talking to him in the hallway at school Homecoming night, covering them with a flirtatious smile and her desire to not be late for the game, they'd been there just the same. Claire had even idly thought of kissing Peter, just to see what he'd do, the way she used to dream of kissing Brody Mitchum. Kissing Peter though, was full of it's own conflict and dilemma. On one hand, Claire knew that Peter sometimes looked at her like most other people did, seeing how small and pretty she was, and others, he had something like awe on his thin, pale face, as if she represented something he was still trying to understand. Kissing him when he was seeing her as the pretty young cheerleader from Union Wells High would be easy. When his face was full of that almost reverential awe, Claire couldn't even look at him, afraid that if their eyes met, he'd only see just the cheerleader again and forget why it was he'd saved her in the first place.

She looked over to right, where Nathan was reading some important looking paperwork and scowling. It must be a Petrelli family trait, like their dark eyes, Claire thought, looking at Nathan's large square hands, the air of responsibility and strength they exuded. Nathan was a larger man, physically, than Peter was, broader shoulders, more like her dad, Claire thought. He was probably younger than her father, too. Claire remembered the odd look that had crossed Nathan's face when she'd shown them the picture of her family she'd brought with her, almost like recognition, but also something else. Something dangerous and predatory and alligator like. After he'd seen the picture, Nathan had also stopped griping about Claire going with them, and instead seemed grimly determined to get her away from Odessa, too. That struck Claire as odd, especially since Nathan was some sort of politician. But, like her father, Nathan took control of things. Nathan had provided the dark underscore to the flight from Odessa, had dictated the note Claire left on her bed, directing her father to California rather than New York. The older Petrelli brother had kept this adventure from being about a romantic flight of fancy.

And, of course, it was Nathan who noticed her study of him.

"That's my bad side." He quipped dryly, and Claire smiled. "How are your ears?"

"Fine?" Claire replied. "Why?"

"Flying always bothers mine." Nathan said and Claire nodded. She handed him a stick of gum. "What's that for?"

"Doesn't chewing gum help that?" Claire asked, and Peter nodded, finally looking up from the window.

"Yeah, it does, chewing helps regulate…"He looked at Nathan, who was staring at him, blankly. "Just take the gum, Nathan." Peter smiled at Claire and went back to looking out the window. Nathan took the gum, nodded his head and went back to reading.

"Peter?" Claire turned and he looked up at her again. She swallowed. "Are you okay? You seem distracted."

"Yeah…just thinking about some stuff I have to do when I get home." Peter said, squeezing Claire's hand. "We still have a pretty long flight. Why don't you try and get some sleep?"

Claire nodded and closed her eyes for what seemed like almost no time at all before Peter was shaking her awake. "Claire? We're here."

"Here?" She sat up and looked around, almost as if she expected to find herself surrounded by skyscrapers and honking taxis. "New York?"

"Well, Newark." Nathan said, barely trying to hide his derision. "There's a car waiting to take us into Manhattan."

Claire nodded, trying to be brave. The fear that her father somehow be waiting for her when she got off the plane was enough to freeze her in place.

"Hey, it's okay." Peter said from behind her. "I'm with you all the way."

"Good." Claire smiled and she moved out into the aisle behind Nathan.

"You're going to like New York." Peter reassured Claire brightly. "There's a lot of stuff here." They walked down the jetway and into the terminal. Peter took Claire's backpack and shouldered it. "Might as well help you with that." He smiled and then it faded as his eyes fell on a woman waiting for them just beyond security. "Simone."

"Simone?" Claire frowned, and Peter nodded. "Who is Simone?" But Claire could see her. Older than Peter, in a dress that Claire's mother would have pitched a fit if Claire had tried to wear it, waving.

"Well, for lack of a better word, Simone is Peter's girlfriend." Nathan told Claire matter of factly. "She's an art dealer."

"Who just happened to know that we were flying in." Peter looked at Nathan. "Thanks, Nathan." Peter waved and then looked at Claire. "It's complicated. She's not technically my girlfriend…"

"Girlfriend enough, she's been calling every day to find out how you were." Nathan interjected as they came face to face with Simone. Claire hung back a little, watching the scene shyly, afraid to make her presence known.

"Are you okay? Peter, I was so worried." She hugged Peter tightly and then looked into his face. "So? Did you do what you went there to do?"

"I did." Peter replied, turning to Claire. "Simone, I'd like you to meet Claire Bennett." Simone looked at Claire coldy, the smile she'd greeted Peter with vanishing.

"Hello, Claire." Simone greeted her with a coolly polite nod. She turned back to Peter. "Is this the cheerleader? The one from Issac's paintings?"

"Yes." Peter said, and Simone frowned.

"Well, why is she here? You saved her, wasn't that enough?" Simone asked, her voice getting a little louder. They were walking toward baggage claim, Simone and Peter walking slightly ahead of Claire and Nathan.

"She was still in danger, Simone." Peter looked around, embarrassed. "Try and keep your voice down."

Simone nodded, annoyed. "Where is she going to stay?"

"With me." Peter replied, and Simone stopped in her tracks.

"Say that again?" Simone gasped, looking from Claire to Peter in shock. "With you? Peter, she's fourteen."

"I'm seventeen." Claire snapped, making Simone jump. "And I'm here, so don't talk about me like I'm not three feet from you." Claire folded her arms, ignoring Nathan's hand on her shoulder. "I'm not marrying Peter, for goodness sake. He's just giving me a place to stay."

Simone smiled. "Okay. Calm down. It was just a bit of a shock. Where is your family?"

"In Texas." Claire answered, not liking the fact that Simone's smile did not reach her eyes at all. "I don't have anyone in New York."

"Okay." Peter took Simone by the arm, looking around at the passersby. "Let's get out of here, Simone.."

"Right." Simone nodded, letting Peter tow her in the direction of baggage claim. "It's all going to be okay, Claire, you'll see…" She smiled again, the fake smile Claire recognized from school and shook her head, not very surprised that things really didn't change much outside of school.

"Tinkerbell, meet Wendy." Nathan said, and Claire looked up at him, annoyed. "Welcome to New York, Claire. Closest thing to Neverland that you'll get without happy thoughts and pixie dust."

When Mr. Bennett found the note, he read it over carefully, and then folded it, sliding the pink paper into his pocket. He'd tell his wife that Claire was staying with friends, and in the morning start the search for her. Whatever paintings Mendez had left were clues enough…Claire asleep, wearing an "I Love NY" T-shirt. It was a big city, but Mr. Bennett was accustomed to finding people that wanted to be lost in the crowd. It was what he did best. You could almost say it was his special ability.

To be continued….


	5. The Border

**The Border - The Fall, Part V**

"_Long distance run around  
Long time waiting to feel the sound  
I still remember the dream there  
I still remember the time you said goodbye…_

_Did we really tell lies?  
Letting in the sunshine  
Did we really count to one hundred… _

_Cold summer listening  
Hot colour melting the anger to stone  
I still remember the dream there  
I still remember the time you said goodbye  
Did we really tell lies?  
Did we really count to one hundred…"_

_**Long Distance Runaround - Yes**_

Crossing frontiers is an American tradition. Ever since the first Europeans crossed the great, wild border of the Atlantic, claiming the untamed wilderness of the new continent as their own, it was a birthright. Manifest Destiny did not exist until America did. For Claire Bennett, this was more than a continuation of a deeply held patriotic belief. It was a flight for survival, the dark side of that proud American tradition of border crossing. So many other refugees had been similarly enchanted, from the prow of overcrowded steamer ships, the backs of unregistered, battered vans, or in small boats that had been knocked around by the punishing sea, all who laid eyes on the gates of the American Dream wept with delight and despair. Tonight, surrounded by fine leather luxury, dazzled by the electric glory of Manhattan at night from a limousine window, a cheerleader from Texas fell under the thrall of the most heartbreaking and alluring city in the world.

It was nearly midnight when they'd arrived at Peter's Lower East Side apartment, and Claire stared wide-eyed at the activity on the street. Downtown Odessa would have been a graveyard at this hour, but cars still roared down the avenue, people walked around and stores were open. Reaching for Peter's sleeve, Claire connected with Simone's instead, and pulled her hand away, as if the older woman's expensive dress burned her hand. Simone had smiled indulgently, but Claire could see that she had been right to pull her hand back. Simone was no friend. Simone reminded Claire of the breeding bitch that her mother had brought over for Mr. Muggles one time, a snappy little Pomeranian with excellent conformation and a vicious temper. That was before the abilities had appeared, and Claire had nursed a nasty bite, thanks to the sassy little dog. Simone looked like she could do more harm than just bite, and Claire didn't want to find out what that could be.

"Well, here we are." Nathan said, as they walked into Peter's apartment. It was small, Claire thought, but it reminded her of an apartment from a movie, old and full of character. She wanted to peek in every cabinet, open every closet to look for hidden doors and wondered what was concealed under the wide, dark wood floors.

"You can take my room for tonight, Claire." Peter said, pointing down a narrow hallway. "It's the last door on the right." His face, pale from exhaustion and stress, was solemn. Dark eyes flicked toward Simone and then the hallway again. "The bathroom is right next to it. Make yourself at home."

"Okay." She shouldered her backpack, taking the hint that she should leave. With a quick glance behind her, Claire walked down the hall, feeling more like Alice in Wonderland than Tinkerbell. Hand on the doorknob, Claire heard her name and turned. Simone was speaking in shrill undertones, and although Claire couldn't see Peter, she knew he was only tolerating this outburst. Even Nathan looked uncomfortable, and Claire tried to spare the older man a bit of sympathy. She turned the doorknob and went into Peter's room. It was dark, and Claire instantly smelled Peter as clearly as if he himself were standing beside her. Her stomach flipped. She'd been in Zach's room, and her brother's room, but this was different. She felt for the lightswitch on the wall and found it, turning the ceiling light on. The room itself was almost bare, nursing school textbooks still piled on a small desk near the window. The bed, a full sized one like Claire had left behind, was neatly and simply made and Claire stopped herself from falling on it and giggling, giddy from being this close to where Peter slept and studied. This was her home, at least for now, and that kind of silliness might make things awkward.

A small, sharp knock on the door made her turn around. Peter had pushed the door open a bit and was looking at her. "Everything okay? There are towels in bathroom closet. If you're hungry, I have cereal, I think, but I can't vouch for the milk…I guess I'll have to go to the store tomorrow."

"Oh." Claire dropped her backpack on the bed. "I'm fine. Did Simone leave?"

Peter pushed the door open all the way and leaned against the doorframe. "Yeah. Nathan, too." He swallowed and looking away, walked to the bed to take one of the pillows and the grey blanket that had been folded at the foot of the bed. "I'll just go…you're probably tired..."

"How does anyone sleep?" Claire asked, and Peter looked at her strangely. "I mean, with so many people still awake and being so busy…"

"Oh." Peter laughed. "Odessa isn't exactly a big nightspot, huh? Everyone in before dark and streets empty by ten?"

Claire grinned. "Crickets, raccoons and armadillos like it fine, though."

Peter nodded and walked to the desk, rummaging until he found what he was looking for, a portable cd player and a disc in a clear, square case. "Here. Forest night sounds. I used it when I was studying for the RN Boards. Might help you sleep."

He went to the bureau and pulled out a pair of pajama pants and a t-shirt, and Claire could see his pale face flush a little with color. "I guess you'll need a place to put your stuff, too. Tomorrow, I'll clear out a drawer or two, and there's room in the closet for anything you might want to hang up."

"Thanks." Claire nodded, looking at her overstuffed backpack. "I don't know how much I could have crammed in there. One drawer might be enough."

"Nathan said he's going to talk to Heidi about you borrowing some of her things." Peter told her. "You'll like Heidi. She's Nathan's exact opposite. Nice, friendly, she even smiles." He smiled himself at that. "And, she won't call you Tinkerbell if you don't want her to."

Claire rolled her eyes. "It's just so silly. We're nothing like Peter Pan and Tinkerbell."

"I know." Peter nodded, clutching his armful of bed things. He looked at her for a long minute thoughtfully and then grinned. "You don't have wings."

"Shut up!" Claire laughed, and Peter laughed, too, walking out of the room. "Night, Peter." She called out, almost afraid to let him leave, scared to be alone in this strange room in this new city.

"Night, Claire..." Peter turned and smiled at her reassuringly. "It's all going to be okay."

"I know." She nodded a little and waved. "Night. And thanks, for everything." She added lamely, gesturing with the cd player.

"You're welcome. If you need anything, I'm right in the living room." Peter turned and walked away, pulling the bedroom door closed behind him. Claire darted to the door, and without thinking, turned the skeleton key in the lock, bolting the door. Her heart was racing and her palms sweaty. She rested her face against the door and

"Driver, you've made a mistake, this isn't my address.." Simone snapped, wiping her eyes. "We never crossed Sixth Avenue…I live on the West Side."

"Look, lady, I don't make decisions. You told me this address...okay?" The cab driver turned to look at Simone. "You either give me a new address or get out here."

Simone peered out the window, staring at Issac's door. Instinct had led her here, and given how thinking things through had made life lately, Simone sighed, instinct might be the way to go. She paid the cab driver and got out. Three men were walking down the street, two of them talking in rapid Japanese, while the third, taller than his companions, seemed to be lost in a world of his own, carrying a small soft sided suitcase. He looked up and Simone felt her breath catch in her lungs. _Issac._

"Simone?" Issac left the Japanese men and hurried to her. "What are you doing here? If you had been a half hour earlier, you'd have missed me, I'm just getting home." It might have been a trick of the street lamps, Simone thought, but Issac looked amazing, whole and pure and clean. Urban moonlight was known to play tricks like that, but when she looked into his eyes and saw the clarity there, Simone knew it was no illusion.

"I don't know." She shook her head. "I was upset and I thought I gave my home address but I ended up here." Simone gasped, reaching up to touch his face. "You're not using anymore, Issac." Tears filled her eyes, and she smiled. "You aren't."

"No." Issac smiled. "I'm not. Come upstairs. You have to see what I've been doing." He took her by the hand and led her to the door, past the arguing Japanese men. "Hiro, Ando, this is Simone."

"Hello." The round faced one, Hiro said, bowing slightly. The other, Ando, bowed as well, and Simone returned the salute, letting Issac tow her past them and up to his loft. If he noticed the paintings she'd taken for his art show were missing, Issac didn't say anything. He just dropped his suitcase on a chair and opened it, pulling out a large black, leather bound sketchbook Simone had never seen before.

"Here, look." He said, handing her the sketchbook and then turning on a light. "I drew those stone sober. Simone frowned and opened the book. Neat pencil drawings, in comic format – the round faced Japanese man talking to a willowy girl, obviously enchanted. Simone flipped through the pages until she saw herself standing at the arrivals gate at Newark airport, glaring icily at a tiny young girl, who was looking around at the busy terminal with a frightened expression Simone had not noticed at the time. Chastened, Simone turned the page and saw the girl leaning against a closed door, Peter's bedroom door, tears of homesickness and fright streaming down her cheeks and in the split frame, Peter on the couch, arms behind his head, awake, lost in thought.

"Issac…" Simone looked up. "When did you draw these?"

"Three days ago." He said proudly. "I'm working on that, though. We had a bit of a set back." Issac looked around and frowned. "There are paintings missing…I needed to see one of them..."

"The gallery. I hung them when you disappeared." Simone told him. "They're safe."

"Good." Issac nodded. He frowned at her. "Did this happen already? You at the airport and this girl?" He pointed to the drawing of Claire, lost and lonely in a frame of them outside Peter's apartment building.

"Yes." Simone closed the book and handed it to Issac. "Peter brought her back from Texas."

"Texas?" The Japanese men looked up and hurried over to her. "You say, Texas?"

"I did." Simone looked up at Issac. "A cheerleader. Peter saved her from someone who was trying to kill her. She's at his apartment right now." Simone looked at the three men as they absorbed what she had told them.

"YATTA!" The round faced man finally shouted, his face lit up with a huge grin. "Peter Petrelli did it!! Saved the world!". The quieter one, Ando, clapped his hands grinning, and Issac pulled Simone into a rough hug, relief flooding his handsome face.

"That's very good news, babe. Really." Issac smiled down at her. "You don't know how good that is to hear."

Around 1:30, Claire heard a knock on the door.. She'd not even gotten ready to go to sleep, but was sitting on the windowsill, watching the activity on the street below. When she opened the door, Peter was standing there, still dressed in his regular clothes. "Hi." Claire said, smiling. "It's very late."

"Hi." Peter said and then smiled. "I know, but I was thinking, first night, strange city…do you want to go out and see some of it?" He tipped his head. "Unless you have other plans…"

"Are you kidding?" Claire gasped, pushing the door the rest of the way open. "I'd love that."

"Okay." Peter nodded. "Let's go."

They walked through the streets of Greenwich Village, and the swirl of activity made Claire dizzy. People, all kinds of people, flowed around them like water. Cars, trucks and buses still filled the streets. Music poured out of the many clubs that lines the streets, their open doors inviting passersby in to lose themselves inside. Finally, around 3:30 in the morning, Peter bought her ice cream at a little shop near the college campus that was open 24 hours. They sat in a booth near the window, watching the parade of humanity pass them by, eating ice cream and talking about everything Claire had seen on their late night tour.

"That was fun. It all reminds me of the movies." Claire said to Peter, as his hand covered hers crossing the street on their way back to the apartment. Her heart jumped, feeling his hand flex protectively around hers, and Claire looked up at Peter. He was looking both ways, and then turned his eyes down to her. She smiled nervously, and Peter laughed.

"Well, the next tour will be in the daylight." Peter informed her, opening the door to his apartment building. "And, none of this is the movies, it's all very real." Peter had not let go of her hand and Claire didn't want him to.

"That explains why I'm really tired." Claire smiled, covering her mouth with her free hand to hide her wide yawn.

"I hope get some sleep now." Peter said, as they got out and walked down his hallway to the apartment. "You've had a lot of upheaval these last few days. The rest will do you good."

Claire nodded, rubbing at her eyes. She smiled, and Peter opened his apartment door, watching as Claire walked dreamily down the hall. She turned at the bedroom door and waved. "Thanks, Peter. That was amazing."

"All part of the package. Tomorrow, after breakfast, I'll show you where everything important is, so you can find your way around." He took off his coat and hung it up. Claire was still looking at him and Peter turned. "What?"

"Nothing." Claire blushed. "Good night, Peter."

"G'night, Claire." Peter nodded, and walked into the living room to not sleep until dawn, thinking of Claire's hand in his and unsure if the thrill he got was from touching her or from the flow of her healing power as he absorbed it as his own. He fell asleep finally, thinking of what it might have been like to kiss her, a small smile playing on his lips as he drifted off.


End file.
